


world tilts

by wearing_tearing



Series: Sterek Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy is <em>gorgeous as hell<em>, and Stiles kind of wishes he could stare at him forever.</em></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>He figures he deserves a treat after almost slipping to his death.</em>
  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	world tilts

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from [tumblr](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/post/112718751999/sterek-where-stiles-slips-on-ice-and-derek-catches). prompted by anon who wanted stiles slipping on ice + derek catching him + derek being the son of stiles' new boss at hale inc.
> 
> not beta'd, so if you spot any terrible mistakes pls let me know!
> 
> **i do not give permission for any of my works to be added to or shared on other websites such as goodreads/leafmarks.**

Stiles never thought he’d go out like this.

He always figured he’d end up dead because his Jeep decided to crap out on him in the middle of nowhere, leaving him alone without water and food and an internet connection. Or maybe because he drank too much caffeine or ate too much fried food and his heart decided it was done. Or even because Lydia finally decided to act on all her threats of dismembering him if he ever decided it was a good idea to call her before ten in the morning again.

That’s not what happens, though.

What happens is that he’s walking home from having dinner with his dad, a skip on his step from knowing he got the editor job at Hale Publisher he so desperately wanted. He’s playing with the ends of his scarf, his cheeks and nose red from the cold, trying his best  not bump into people and to walk on the snow slowly melting on the sidewalk. And then.

And  _then_ , the entire world tilts around him as he slips on a patch of ice.

Stiles has to say he never believe what people say about their lives flashing before their eyes whenever they found themselves in a potentially deadly situation. Which is why he’d kind of angry at himself when all he can think about, as he falls forward and the concrete closer and closer to his face, is all the things he’s always wanted to do in his life, but never had a chance to.

Like, you know, get a tattoo, learn how to knit so he could make Scott mittens since he’s always complaining his hands are cold, adopt a puppy, go out with the hottest guy alive, find out how  _A Song of Ice and Fire series_  ends. Normal stuff.

But he doesn’t get to do those things, no sir. Because he’s about to  _die_. From  _slipping on a patch of ice_ and  _falling face down on the ground_.

He braces himself for it, eyes snapping shut, lips pressed in a thin line. Only it’s not the cold hard ground that meets him and smashes his face beyond recognition.

Well, he hits something, alright. But it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought he would. And what his cheek connects with doesn’t feel gritty and cold against his skin. In fact, it feels warm and soft, and it smells like leather and coffee and not at all like concrete and garbage like Stiles thought it would.

“Uh,” Stiles says, finally opening his eyes. What meets him is dark grey cashmere and the ends of a green scar, and not the dirty melted snow he was expecting.

“Are you okay?”

And that’s when it registers.

That’s when Stiles realizes he didn’t crash into the ground because  _someone_  caught him before he could. And not only is this  _someone_  holding on tightly to Stiles’s upper arms, but they’re also the owners of the chest Stiles currently has his face and hands pressed against.

As Stiles pulls back and looks up, he can feel his mouth drop open and his eyes glaze over a little. Because standing right there, holding on to him, is the hottest guy Stiles’s ever seen.

He’s only an inch or two taller than Stiles, with black hair and stubble covering his jaw. His brows are furrowed, hazel eyes looking like a million different colors as he stares at Stiles. Stiles already knows the guy smells nice, so he now notices that the chest he fell on is chiseled and warm under his hands, and the hands holding him up are strong and sure.

The guy is  _gorgeous as hell_ , and Stiles kind of wishes he could stare at him forever.

He figures he deserves a treat after almost slipping to his death.

“Hey,” the guy says, shaking Stiles a little. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

“I’m—,” Stiles stars, shaking his head a little to clear his thoughts. “Sorry. No, I’m okay. Just a bit shaken up. I was sure I was going to fall and that would  _not_  have been pleasant.”

“Yes,” the guy says dryly, still looking a bit concerned. “I think we can all agree that getting hurt isn’t _fun_.”

Stiles’s lips twitch up, cheeks flushing. “Thanks for catching me. My face and I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” the guys says, expression changing to something like amusement. He also loosens his hold on Stiles, hands trailing down Stiles’s arms before falling to his sides.

And Stiles doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that he most beautiful man to ever pop into his life is about to step out of it again, probably to never be seen again.

So he blurts out, “How about some coffee? As a thanks for saving me from certain death.”

The guy blinks, taken aback. He then smiles a small smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is that the currency for your life? A cup of coffee?”

“I’m a cheap date.” Stiles shrugs, stomach fluttering when he sees his answer makes the guy’s smile widen an inch.

“I don’t even know your name,” the guy says. “How do you expect me to agree to go on a date with you?”

“I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

That’s when Stiles realizes his palms are still resting against the guy’s chest. He flushes and takes a step back, sticking one hand into his pocket and offering his other one for a handshake.

“Derek Hale.” The guy —  _Derek_  — takes his hand, soft palms sliding against Stiles’s dry ones.

“Wait,  _Hale_?” Stiles gapes, already seeing his chance for a date with Derek passing him by.

“Yes,” Derek says, frowning. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“Well.” Stiles cringes. “That depends on how you feel about interoffice relationships.”

“Why would that—,” Derek says, only for his eyes to widen in understatement. “You’re the new editor my mother hired.”

“Yup. I start work next week,” Stiles nods, stomach dropping.

“She didn’t call you Stiles, though.”

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “The name on my birth certificate is too hard to pronounce. Although Mrs. Hale got close.”

“So we’re going to be working together,” Derek says after a few seconds.

“Yes.” Stiles sighs. “I guess I should probably go, huh? It was nice meeting you, Derek. Thanks again for, well, you know.”

“Wait,” Derek says, wrapping his hand around Stiles’s wrist, stopping him before Stiles can even take a step.

“Yes?” Stiles licks his lips, heart beating fast.

“I don’t work in the Editorial Department,” Derek says slowly. “I work in Marketing. That’s an entire different thing.”

Stiles bites on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from smile. “You’re right. I doubt we’d ever see each other.”

“Right,” Derek says, as if that’s that. Which kind of is, but really. “Plus, there isn’t really a rule  _against_ interoffice relationships.”

“It’s just kind of frown-upon.”

“But only if it interferes with your work.”

“Which I’d never let happen,” Stiles says firmly, because if there’s one thing he’s proud of is how dedicated he is to his job.

“Right,” Derek says, lips curling up.

“Right,” Stiles repeats, letting his own smile show.. “So what do you say about that date?”

“There’s a coffee shop a few blocks from here,” Derek answers.

“Lead the way,” Stiles says, turning around.

Only for the world to tilt around him for the second time that night.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, propping him up, and Stiles finds himself once again with his cheek smooshed against Derek’s chest.

“I think I better hold on to you while we walk.”

Stiles swallows hard, nodding his head.

He has  _no_  complaints about that.

*

Other things Stiles doesn’t complain about?

Derek leaning in to kiss him when he walks Stiles to his door, after spending the night getting to know each other.

Stiles pulling him closer by his scarf, wanting more kisses, wanting  _all_  the kisses, asking Derek for more and giving back just as much.

Derek’s hot breath against the back of his neck, his hands clinging to Stiles’s hips, the sound of his laughter on Stiles’s ear when Stiles drops his keys on the floor for the third time in favor of turning around and brushing their lips together.

His clothes on the floor, getting wrinkled, soon joined by Derek’s  jacket and sweater and pants. They keep the scarf close by.

And the feel of Derek inside him, thrusting into him, sucking marks into his throat, fucking him so hard he’s sure bound to be sore as fuck in the morning.

*

Stiles does complain about Derek stealing the covers, though.

Derek just tells him he’ll warm him up.

*

Talia Hale is not a least bit surprised when she sees her son and Mr. Stilinski arriving at the Publisher together a week later, all shy looks and secret touches. In fact, it brings a pleased smile to her face. Because you see, now she won’t have to worry about trying to get them together at the office’s Christmas party next month.

“I guess I’ll just have to cancel the extra mistletoe order,” Talia murmurs to herself.

She glances up then and catches sight of Mr. Boyd stepping out of the elevator, eyes immediately finding Ms. Reyes on her desk in front of Talia’s office. Ms. Reyes, for her turn, perks up and flashes him a smile, her cheeks turning pink.

“Well,” Talia says. “Then again, maybe I won’t.”


End file.
